Gone

Originally posted by howtobesupernatural

(A/N: I am so sorry for your loss, nony. :( I hope you like this and I hope that it helps, even just a little.)

It hurt. Every breath you took turned into a jagged sob, stinging around the lump in your throat. Every beat of your heart seemed to make your chest ache as you trembled, wrapping your arms around yourself in a vain attempt to keep it together. Your muscles felt sore from exhaustion, though the only thing you’d done was cry. Every fibre of your being was in pain.

Beside you your phone lay face up, the screen displaying your favourite picture, one from a much happier time and a moment you would never forget. Your dog was gone and  now memories were all that you had left.

You sniffled, wishing the pain away as you heard a soft knock at your door before it creaked open.

“Y/N?” Sam’s voice called out to you gently as you heard him enter the room.

Looking over at him with tears streaming down from your eyes, Sam immediately knew what had happened and he came over to you, pulling you up into his arms as he hugged you tightly.

“I’m so sorry” Sam whispered, holding you close to his chest as a new wave of sobs burbled from your chest.

“They’re gone” you whimpered, the words tearing open a fresh wound as it was the first time you’d said them aloud.

“I know, I know” Sam comforted, holding the back of your head to his as his other hand absently ran over your back.

He held you close and let you cry, being that immovable rock that you needed for support without even saying a word. Your eyes spilling more tears than you could have thought possible until they felt gritty and dry and your sobs turned to short hiccups.

“It hurts, Sam” you mumbled against his chest, digging your fingers into the fabric of his shirt as you silently pleaded for him to not leave you, though you knew deep down he never would.

“I know, Y/N. They were a great dog, and you should let the memories you have with them bring a smile to your face, not make you sad” he soothed, holding your shoulders so he could pull back and look down at you.

The kindness and warmth in his features helped to calm your remaining gasps for air as your breathing returned to a steady pace, and your heart rate slowed enough that your chest no longer hurt.

You knew it would be awhile before the very thought of them no longer hurt, but with a great friend like Sam at your side, reminding you to think of the good times, that it would definitely make it a lot easier.


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I wish I had met you four years ago. Maybe then the feel of blade on skin wouldn’t be familiar to me. Maybe my heart would have just a few less tears in it. Maybe we would have found comfort in each other’s sadness, and maybe we would have been drawn together like soulmates. Perhaps our silly emo past selves would have taken stupid cheesy pictures, and we would have proclaimed ourselves as best friends not realizing we were more. Or maybe you would have kissed me at first sight.
Maybe we would have destroyed each other in unimaginable ways, with memories of nights crying together and separately. Maybe it wouldn’t have lasted, maybe we would have fallen out, or maybe we would have both fallen in love with another. Perhaps we wouldn’t have improved.
But god, I wish I had met you four years ago–if only to have had one more year with you.

i. separate yourself. discipline is key. remember you’re better than him. block him. text your best friend instead. and turn the pictures around.

ii. lie to yourself and say that the good times weren’t that good. repeat this until the voice that’s arguing against it is silent.

iii. delete the screenshots. you won’t need them.

iv. cry. a lot. it’s okay. cry with your friend. cry alone. cry to your family. it’s okay.

v. get angry. you’re allowed bitterness.

vi. spit the putrid taste of his lips out of your mouth and onto the ground. curse his name until it is raw on your tongue. scrub your skin so you are clean of his touch.

vii. replace him with that friend you haven’t spoken to since august. it’s worth it.

viii. reject the phone call. that one, too.

ix. smile. force it if you have to. smile at strangers. and at children. and at your mother. and at the “other girl”. and at yourself.

x. forgive if only you wish to.

—  ten essential steps to moving on
I believe that suffering is part of the narrative, and that nothing really good gets built when everything’s easy. I believe that loss and emptiness and confusion often give way to new fullness and wisdom.
—  Shauna Niequist, Bittersweet: Thoughts on Change, Grace, and Learning the Hard Way